<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>Sunlight by bakakaneki</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28892082">Sunlight</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/bakakaneki/pseuds/bakakaneki'>bakakaneki</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Tokyo Ghoul</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Domestic Bliss, Domestic Fluff, F/M, Fluff, Gave Myself Cavities, Jazz - Freeform, Light Angst, Music, Super Light Angst, Tooth-Rotting Fluff</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 09:14:20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,106</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28892082</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/bakakaneki/pseuds/bakakaneki</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>She remembers—with a vague memory of it—when his hands were flawlessly smooth. Of when they became broken, bruised and imperfect. With time, with healing, they became flawlessly imperfect.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Kaneki Ichika &amp; Kirishima Touka, Kaneki Ken | Sasaki Haise/Kirishima Touka</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>49</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Sunlight</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Music is playing in the kitchen, is the first thought Touka had as she slowly wakes up.</p><p>The window is open, warm breeze shifting the hair from her face. Typically she’d be upset at this, morning light when she first wakes up isn’t her daily go to, but something about it feels too delicately charming to get mad at.</p><p>Stretching out her aching limbs, she climbs out of bed, the scent of the sun lulling her into a sappy mix of contentedness and drowsiness. She puts on a robe over the undergarments she had worn to bed the previous night, leaving her bedroom.</p><p>It feels strange. The overwhelming happiness almost feels fake, sometimes. Touka almost always woke up expecting that the last few years had been a blissfully normal life in the disguise of a taunting dream.</p><p>It feels like too much on the bad days, and anger gets the best of her during that time and she eventually had to escape from it all and disappear for some time. Though it still feels strange—almost wrong, Touka can feel those emotions settling away from her for the time being.</p><p>Tip toeing down the hallway to Ichika’s room, the ghoul finds her four year old daughter snoring and drooling like the cute little devil child she is in a mess of clothes and cutesy stuffed animals. Most of which Kaneki had, without any shame whatsoever, spoiled her with. She couldn’t blame him though, with the childhood that he didn’t like to talk much about, that was probably not the kindest to him, he was bound to feel a need to give his daughter what he never had. Ichika could ask for the world and her father would gift it to her with a beaming smile and a simple “I hope you like it”.</p><p>Touka laughs at the image a bit before retreating to go to the kitchen.</p><p>The music is strangely soothing. She wonders what it’s called.</p><p>Kaneki is sitting at the table there, a cup of coffee in front of him, and he smells gentle. He smells like the sunlight that tires her mind and melts her bones. He doesn’t notice her right away as she watches him, aggressively writing on a pad of paper in front of him.</p><p>Holding back a chuckle, Touka knows what it is. He’s been talking like a maniac about writing a list of books to read to Ichika. She had shrugged at the time, thinking it to be a sweet idea. Her daughter loves bedtime stories, especially if it means staying up later than she normally got to. Kaneki was definitely trying to mold her into a bookworm like himself. Touka laughs a bit at the thought—her daughter was a bit too young for an obsession like that. That is, other than playing with Renji’s hair.</p><p>At the sound of her laughter, Kaneki snaps his head up, and his startled face is so hilarious in that moment for some reason, that Touka can’t help but snort at him.</p><p>“Huh? What is it?” He rubs his cheek, “oh no, is there pen ink on my face again?”</p><p>“No, don’t worry, there’s nothing there. Morning.”</p><p>“Morning, Touka.” He smiles, and its genuine, and her heart clenches at memories of the past when everything had been fake and practiced.</p><p>She fills a glass with some water and pops a couple of ice cubes in it, still too lazy to make coffee for herself, and sits down to the chair next to Kaneki, watching him continue to write more titles on the notepad. She’ll never get over how beautiful his handwriting is.</p><p>“When you said you wanted to make a list, I wasn’t really expecting a ten page essay.”</p><p>This time he laughs, sheepishly and his cheek is tinted pink. “I’ll admit I got a bit carried away. She’s probably too young to understand any of these yet.”</p><p>She flicks his nose and he pretends like it hurts, putting his pen down to look at her. His eyes are silver, as they normally are. She remembers when they were dull and gray and empty and lost. Everything has changed so much. That feeling returns and she shoves it away.</p><p>Touka knows he can see the memories in her eyes through the sadness. Knows it because she sees that emptiness come and go in tones of silver before he looks away again. He leans over to her and places his head on her shoulder. His hair is soft on the skin of her face, white locks smelling of sunlight and silk.</p><p>She remembers when it was coarse, matted against his head, smelling of blood and fear and death.</p><p>“Who’s singing?”</p><p>“Isn’t he wonderful?” Kaneki finds her hand and she traces the scars on his knuckles, “Hinami told me to listen to him. She has good taste in music. Nat King Cole, he was an American Singer and jazz pianist.”</p><p>“His voice is very nice.”</p><p>Touka thinks she might’ve heard him sometime ago, in the past. Maybe when she was studying for the entrance exams to college. She traces his fingers, the lines on his palm, her own callouses rubbing against his own. That had been so long ago.</p><p>“You know, you’ve got pianist fingers.”</p><p>He shifts so that the back of his head is on her instead of his temple, so they can see each other. “What do you mean by that? You don’t want to hear me on the piano, I’m absolutely horrible.”</p><p>His smile is dorky and shy and everything she had always longed for, void of pain.</p><p>“You’ve got elegant hands.” It feels embarrassing saying it out loud, but there’s no going back now. “You know, long, relaxed. I don’t know! Ugh.”</p><p>“Thanks, I am very grateful you like my hands.” He giggles and Touka just knows he’s making fun of her. She rolls her eyes and struggles to keep a poker face. He wiggles his fingers in her face and it’s so perfectly idiotic that she gives him a little kiss on the cheek.</p><p>“Ew! Kissing! That’s yucky.”</p><p>They sit up and look to where their daughter was standing, her black and white hair sticking up all over the place, that weird bear onesie Hinami had gifted her on backwards. From the looks of it she had just woken up.</p><p>Tears flow down her face and she laughs as Ichika gasps and asks if she’s okay. Her poor daughter had to witness a cheek kiss from her parents. How utterly horrific.</p><p>She shakes her head, and smiles, looking at Kaneki who just<em>...knows—“</em>Nothing makes sense, and it’s perfect.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Self indulgent fluff fic that I had to post. Never wrote Touken before but I am in dire need of emergency fluff so I did it myself.</p></blockquote></div></div>
</body>
</html>